Good Enough
by CBeta
Summary: HPDM Harry deserves so much better than Draco…so Draco leaves him, even though it shatters his heart into a million pieces. What will it take to convince Draco that Harry doesn’t want someone better, and how long will it take for Draco to believe it?
1. Hard to Forget

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter (and associated characters, likenesses, concepts, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc. AOL/Time Warner, Inc., among others. I make no claim, written or implied, upon Harry Potter. No money is being made and no infringement or disrespect to the creators / copyright holders is intended.

Song lyrics at the beginnings of chapters do not belong to me unless noted. They belong to their respectful artists, and I make no claim to them. Again, no money is being made, and no infringement or disrespect to the creators / copyright holders is intended.

**Chapter One**

**Hard to Forget**

"_I think you can do much better than me_

_After all the lies that I made you believe…_

…_I told myself I won't miss you, but I remember_

_What it feels like beside you…_

_I really miss your hair in my face,_

_And the way your innocence tastes,_

_And I think you should know this:_

_You deserve much better than me…"_

-- Better than Me (Hinder)

Draco Malfoy glowered sourly at the picture he held in his hands. In it, Harry Potter was grinning and waving up happily at him. An exact replica of himself (albeit slightly younger) stood in the photo, gripping the cheerful Harry possessively by the waist, trademark sneer in place.

Sighing in defeat, Draco dropped the picture to rub wearily at his eyes with the heels of his hands, not watching as it fluttered down to the ground and lodged itself comfortably beneath the plush chair in which he was lounging.

It had been two years. Two long years since he had last seen the Boy Who Lived. Two long, _painful _years since he had touched him, professed his love for him…and sacrificed his own happiness for his. Because, really, Harry deserved so much more than Draco could give him. If Draco stood in the way of Harry's happiness, he knew he'd never be able to forgive himself. And what grudges would Harry himself hold against Draco had Draco stayed and prevented him from fulfilling his every want?

No, Draco couldn't handle the thought of Harry being unhappy. Couldn't stand to think that if he had stayed, Harry would eventually grow to loathe him over time. And so, without a single word to Harry, he had packed everything he owned and left, refusing to look back.

Every day, he wondered if he had made a wise decision. He wondered how different it would be if he had stayed, but he knew that if he had, Harry would never be happy with him.

Occasionally, Potter would make headlines - especially in the _Daily Prophet_ - and although Draco knew that all of the nonsense they spewed about him was utter rubbish, it also meant that he was updated on how Harry was fairing, no matter how stretched the truth might be.

Harry had seemed devastated at his loss of Draco…at the beginning.

But even Draco could tell from the photos provided with the intermittent stories that overall, Harry was happy. He had a certain glow about him - one that had most certainly been lacking when he had been with Draco. His eyes lit up with the smile that he usually sported, and even though the picture was black and white, Draco imagined he could see the few blue specks in his vibrant green eyes.

On days when he was especially lonely, he imagined he could hear Harry's laughter, could see the way his nose scrunched up so cutely when he was amused, the way his eyes shimmered with love for him and him alone. But those thoughts made his heart clench painfully and his eyes prick with hot tears, so he didn't spend much time lingering on them.

It had been so long since Draco had actually seen Harry. He was sure now that Harry didn't need him, and though that hurt even more than anything else possibly could, every time Draco found himself thinking along those lines, he always found a way to tell himself it was for the better.

Harry deserved someone who could provide him with more love than he knew what to do with. Someone who could protect him, make him feel safe and secure. Someone who wouldn't squander his beliefs, or make him believe that their thoughts were his own. Someone who wasn't a Death Eater's son. Someone who wasn't Draco Malfoy…

Taking a deep breath, Draco shakily collected himself before standing and making his way to the kitchen of his relatively small Muggle flat. Busying himself with preparing tea, he pushed his previous thoughts away and attempted to calm himself by tidying up the nearly immaculate kitchen.

When the tea was ready, he poured himself a cup and let the steam comfort him as the cup warmed his suddenly freezing hands. Moodily staring out the window at the overcast day, his eyes flashed as he steeled himself against the onslaught of memories of days just like this spent with Harry.

Setting the cup and saucer down on the counter a little more forcefully than he had intended to, Draco slapped his palm to his forehead and closed his eyes tightly, willing everything away.

"I really don't need this right now," he muttered in irritation.

Collapsing at the small table situated in front of the window overlooking the busy city, he cradled his head in his hands and breathed deeply. It felt as if he was nursing an extreme hangover as his head throbbed painfully, and suddenly the smell of the once alluring tea only made him nauseous.

---

_Harry was leaning against the wall, eyebrows drawn together with concern as he watched Draco hold his head between his hands. It looked like he was in a lot of pain. Rolling his eyes, Harry smiled slightly as he approached Draco and grasped onto his shoulders to rub them reassuringly. _

"_All right?" he asked. _

_  
Draco looked up at Harry, eyes pained, but he forced a smile and shrugged noncommittally. Harry grinned and pulled Draco into a long hug, and Draco loved the feeling of security Harry gave him without even trying, even though the threat of his head splitting in half marred the perfection of the moment somewhat. When Harry began to pull away, Draco reluctantly let him go, and grasped the chipped cup of tea in both of his hands, avoiding eye contact with his lover. _

_Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "I'll go Floo-call Severus. He's probably got a good hangover potion or two," he muttered. Draco nodded his thanks. He could still hear Harry grousing as he left the room. "I told you not to drink so much, Draco. You know you don't hold your liquor very well,"_

_Draco sighed and took a long, calming draught of his tea, and by the time Harry returned, his stomach had settled marginally. He greedily eyed the vial Harry held in between two long fingers. Already he could feel the relief the potion would bring him, and he licked his lips expectantly. _

_Harry chuckled and handed him the potion, unable to resist the look of relief on Draco's face. "I love you. You know that?" Harry commented, a smile curling his lips up playfully. _

_Draco grinned at him and when he downed the potion, he tasted absolutely nothing._

_---_

Draco jerked out of the fond memory abruptly, grimacing at the pain his sudden movement sent through his head. Groaning, he stood and staggered towards the bathroom where he kept all of his life-saving remedies. Almost recklessly, he shoved bottles of potions out of the way, nearly causing quite a good few to go crashing to the ground, until he found the one he was looking for.

Lifting the _Dreamless Sleep_ potion up to eye level, he noted dully that it was nearly gone and that he'd have to venture out to get more soon, before he threw his head back and took a long healthy swallow.

By the time he made it to his bed, he could barely keep his eyes open. He fell into the queen-sized bed still fully clad in the clothes he had worn that day, feet hanging over the edge and trainers still laced up tightly.


	2. The Pain of Love

**Chapter Two**

**The Pain of Love**

"_I wanted you to know_

_That I love the way you laugh._

_I wanna hold you high_

_And steal your pain away._

_I keep your photograph,_

_And I know it serves me well._

_I wanna hold you high_

_And steal your pain…_

_Because I'm broken,_

_When I'm lonesome,_

_And I don't feel right_

_When you're gone away…"_

--Broken (Seether featuring Amy Lee of Evanescence)

Hermione Weasley settled her curly-haired daughter on her cocked hip and stared unblinkingly down at a very distressed Harry Potter. "Harry, I know you're upset, but really, it's been-"

"Two years," Harry interrupted her. His eyes were red rimmed and puffy, and it was obvious that he either had been crying, or he was close to doing so now.

"Well, that wasn't what I was going to say, but yes, it's been two years since…well, you know. There's no point in moping around, Harry. Honestly, I understand why you're a little touchy, but maybe if you go -"

"I don't want to go out! I'm fine right here, thanks," Harry bit out sharply, eyes hardening.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Fine, Harry. You just keep yourself cooped up for the rest of your life. But it's not going to change anything, and you know it."

"And going out isn't going to change that I still love him, Hermione! It's not going to change that he's gone, and it's not going to change the fact that I have no _clue_ where he is, but am willing to sacrifice my _everything_ to see him just one more time!"

Hermione's eyes softened and she stepped closer to Harry to place a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "I know, Harry," she murmured, eyes glassing over with tears. "But you're not the only one who misses him, you know."

Harry dropped his eyes to the ground and refused to meet Hermione's searching gaze. "I know," he finally managed to choke out, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. "I just…wish it were easier. Why did he leave? What did I do?"

Hermione smiled sadly. She desperately wanted to say something, _anything_, to comfort her distraught friend, but she knew it would be in vain. Nothing she could say could fix the damage that had been done, and no amount of comforting was going to repair the hole that had been left in Harry's heart unless it was done by the hole-digger himself.

It was then that Hermione's plump little charge decided to wake from her light snooze in her mother's arms. Her curly head lifted from where it had been resting on Hermione's shoulder, leaving a faint damp spot where she had been drooling in her sleep, and she began to wail. Hermione's attention was successfully averted to her daughter, and with an apologetic glance at Harry, she quickly swept out of the room to take care of the youngster.

Seconds later, the door was flung open and Ron Weasley entered the room, grinning widely.

"'Mione, I'm hom- oh, hey, Harry!"

"Hi, Ron,"

"What's up with you?" Ron's brows furrowed as he gave Harry a once-over. "Have you been crying?"

Harry stiffened, and he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "No,"

Ron pointedly raised an eyebrow and Harry snorted. "I'm fine, Ron."

After staring at Harry for quite a few unnerving moments, Ron finally nodded and flopped down on the couch next to Harry. "What a day," he sighed, kicking off his boots and wriggling his toes. Harry silently nodded his agreement, and for a few minutes, both men were content to sit in silence.

When Hermione came bustling back into the room, her face sprang into a wide smile upon seeing Ron. "Ronald! You're home early," she exclaimed, eyes betraying her delight.

Ron shot her a lopsided grin and stood to pull her into a tight embrace. Harry grimaced and looked away from the happy couple as they began to kiss. When he dared to look back, their foreheads were resting together, and they were holding a rather intimate-looking conversation.

The blush spreading over Hermione's cheeks indicated to Harry that it was probably time that he left, and he stood, uncomfortably clearing his throat. "I'll, er, just…"

Ron pulled reluctantly away from Hermione, although he still kept his arm slung tightly around her waist. "That's all right, mate," Ron said with a grin. "I was actually wondering if you'd like to stay for dinner. 'Mione's found this great new recipe for Sheppard's Pie that she's been _aching _to poison me with."

Hermione shot Ron a playfully offended look and swatted him on the arm. "Oh, hush, you," she said with an affectionate smile. "Speaking of dinner, I've got to go start on it. I'll be in the kitchen,"

Harry watched Hermione hasten into the kitchen with a look of bemusement. She had taken on the role of housewife quite well, much to Mrs. Weasley's delight, and Harry still found himself amazed at how well she had adapted from the once overly active scholar.

Ron winked at Harry, and Harry found himself awkwardly tugging at the collar of his shirt as he began to prickle slightly in an uncomfortable sweat. "I don't know, Ron. I really don't think I should intrude on -"

"Oh, come on, mate! Intrude? You? Are you kidding me? You're always welcome here, Harry, you know that!" Ron cocked his head to the side as he analyzed Harry curiously with his eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked softly. "You don't seem like yourself, lately,"

Harry slumped into the couch that was thankfully right behind him and eyed Ron, discomfort written clearly across his face. "I just…nothing, Ron. It's not really important." Looking at the place where Hermione had disappeared to, he sighed and met Ron's eyes. "It's so great to see that you guys are happy together. You really deserve it."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Harry, is this about Mal-"

Harry held up a hand to silence Ron, and for once, the man actually considered listening to his friend.

"If it is, Harry, I'm always -"

"Look, Ron, I really don't want to talk about this right now. I'm…tired. I should be heading home,"

Closely examining his friend, Ron could tell that Harry really did look rather frayed at the ends. Closing his eyes, he gave a nod of understanding, his heart clenching in his chest for a moment at the agony his friend must be going through.

"I'll…Floo you tomorrow, yeah?" Harry asked, lips quirking slightly up at the corners despite the tears that had once again gathered in his eyes. Harry's voice sounded rough as he said the words, and Ron's heart contracted a little more at Harry's pain.

"Yeah," he agreed. He opened his eyes and watched silently as Harry threw Floo powder into the fireplace and was gone in an instant.

---

It had been two hours since he had left Ron's house, and Harry had remained in the same position in the same spot for both of them. Staring down at the photo of Draco holding him, the complete adoration in Draco's eyes could be felt even now, and not for the first time, Harry wondered what he had done that had made Draco want to leave.

He could feel tears prickling his eyes again and he sniffled to abate them, but was unable to hold them back. They overflowed to slowly stream down his face and land on the glossy print, causing the two lovers to spring apart and glare up at Harry, shaking their tiny fists and demanding that he cease his sniveling at once, lest he kill them with his tears.

Harry choked on a laugh at that, and traced his index finger lovingly down the side of Draco's indignant face. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, and he groaned in misery before letting the picture flap down to the floor and crossing his arms protectively across his chest.

He wasn't aware of how long he had been sitting there like that. When the Floo roared, Harry stiffly sprang up from the chair to see who was calling, and his neck twinged a bit because of his previously awkward position.

"All right there, mate?" came Ron's slightly muffled voice when Harry stepped into his vantage.

Harry quirked a brow but nodded. "Yeah, 'm fine, Ron," Ron flushed awkwardly, and Harry smiled softly. "Did 'Mione send you?"

Ron turned even more red, and Harry chuckled a bit. "Yeah, but don't tell her I told you. She likes to be sneaky 'bout stuff." Ron said with a little smirk.

"I'm fine," Harry repeated to assure Ron.

"She wanted me to ask if you were sure you didn't want to come for dinner. I would have come earlier, but we just now got a few spare moments. Melody's teething." Ron grinned proudly, but the smile slowly faded when Harry didn't respond. Furrowing his brows, he added, "You look like you haven't eaten in days. C'mon, Harry, it's not going to bite you back,"

Harry blinked. When he thought about it, he supposed it was mostly true, but he didn't have the heart to tell Ron that. "Er…you know what? Sure, I'd love to join you guys."

Ron's smile was almost blinding in its intensity. "Great! Floo right on through then. But be a bit quiet about it, though. We just got Melody back to sleep."

Ron shot Harry one last grin before pulling his head out of the Floo, standing and brushing himself off, and quickly moving out of the way so that Harry could Floo through.

Harry returned Ron's smile, but as soon as his head disappeared from the grate in the fireplace, he groaned and clamped his hands over his eyes. It was going to be a long, awkward night.

He knew that Ron and Hermione would want to pester him into talking about Draco, but he really wasn't ready for that. So then, there would be the awkwardness of them trying to find something _else _to talk about - but Harry knew that eventually, everything would lead back to Draco, and he wasn't looking forward to anything of the sort.

With a frustrated sigh, Harry steeled himself and threw some Floo powder into the fireplace. Maybe if he just came out first thing and said he didn't want to talk about it…

Harry left his flat with the grim hope that perhaps tonight wouldn't be a complete loss.


	3. The Letter

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter (and associated characters, likenesses, concepts, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc. AOL/Time Warner, Inc., among others. I make no claim, written or implied, upon Harry Potter. No money is being made and no infringement or disrespect to the creators / copyright holders is intended.

Song lyrics at the beginnings of chapters do not belong to me unless noted. They belong to their respectful artists, and I make no claim to them. Again, no money is being made, and no infringement or disrespect to the creators / copyright holders is intended.

**Chapter Three**

**The Letter**

"_Out on your own,_

_Cold and alone again._

_Can this be what you really wanted, baby?"_

-- Lacrymosa (Evanescence)

_It was drizzling, and Draco was soaked through to the bone. His teeth chattered uncontrollably as he shook, curling in on himself beneath the umbrella that he had been given by a muggle who had taken pity on him a scant few minutes before. _

_Clenching his jaw in the vain hopes that his teeth would stop clacking annoyingly together, Draco surveyed the busy street with steely eyes. He had done it - he had left Harry. And now that his heart was aching, he realized that he had nowhere to go. And he could not go back to Harry. He could not burden him in that way. _

_Draco heaved a sigh, which lead to a deep bought of hacking. He was getting a cold. And the non-stop pouring of rain certainly was not helping matters. He had already been outside for well over five hours now, searching for a place where he could go for minimal prices, with no questions asked. _

_After having his inheritance cut off and all of his assets frozen until the Ministry could clear the Malfoy name, Draco had relied heavily on Harry. And until now, he had not had a clue as to how much he had used Harry to support himself. He desperately wished that everything had been a dream; that he would wake up in the Slytherin dungeons from a horrible, nasty dream. _

_  
It had started out as a nice dream. He and Hermione were appointed Head Students in their seventh year, forcing them to work in tandem to keep the rest of the Hogwarts pupils under control. Although Draco hadn't exactly liked Granger, he knew she was intelligent, and he grudgingly accepted that he had to work with her. _

_But that didn't mean she had the right to bring her lackwits along with her for the ride! Every time Draco had tried to schedule a meeting with her, both of the other members of the Golden Trio insisted on going with her, no matter where they were meeting. _

_Draco knew that at first she had tried to make them trust that she could take care of herself, but it hadn't worked, and now both boys were privy to what Draco and Hermione's plans were. That irked Draco to no end. _

_Harry often found the opportunity to insert his own opinions about their plans, and sometimes went so far as to offer ideas of his own. Although his suggestions weren't always exactly the brightest, with a little polishing from Hermione, they shone, and somehow managed to find their way wormed into their plans of Inter-House Unity. _

_Although Ron was a prefect, Draco had found that he really didn't care much for the duty - just that he had won something over on Harry. Draco sneered at that. So much for Gryffindor loyalty. And hence, Ron tended to tag along but not pay much attention to what was discussed at such meetings. He was the brawn of the group, apparently; just there to protect Hermione, nothing more, as much as Draco could gather. _

_Harry had proven to be quite intelligent, which was something that surprised Draco immensely. He had expected Harry and Ron to be equally as dumb. He hadn't expected them to be quite as dumb as Crabbe or Goyle, but he had imagined that they would be close. _

_So when it turned out that occasionally Harry actually **did **know what he was talking about, Draco had been forced to pay attention to him. He often found himself staring heatedly at the Gryffindor, rapt with attention as he almost hung on every word the boy spoke. _

_It wasn't until much later that he realized that perhaps the attention he paid to Harry went a little further than the interest in what he had to say. When he was so completely engrossed with what the boy was saying, he often found his thoughts trailing around in his head. Harry's lips looked lush and soft, eyes smoldering with intensity as he spoke most things on his mind without restraint._

_Somehow, Draco found himself actually caring what the Gryffindor thought. Sometimes, he would find himself wondering if Harry would one day laugh with him the way that he laughed so freely with his friends: eyes closed, head thrown back, cute dimple in one cheek, hair looking so silkily soft that Draco could almost feel his hands carding through it if he looked at it hard enough…_

_Draco Malfoy was absolutely smitten with Harry Potter…_

---

Draco sighed in frustration. So much for dreamless sleep. He had dreamed of Harry every second of that night, and when he'd woken up, it had been with an aching erection that demanded attention. He wondered if perhaps he should up the dosage - certainly it was called _Dreamless Sleep _potion for a reason!

Draco was in a foul mood. Of course, being forced to relive some of the most painful yet best times of your life could do that to a person.

As he prepared his morning coffee, he slammed things around more forcefully than he should have, and as a result, ended up breaking two coffee mugs. With a disgusted sneer, he waved his wand to fix them, but was still hasty and rough with his morning preparations.

He usually wasn't the type of person to eat breakfast, and today was no different. No breakfast was waiting for him, and he never had the time nor the skills to make some for himself. That had always been left to the house elves as he had been growing up, and later to other people - Mrs. Weasley, for example.

Draco grimaced as his stomach grumbled as he finished his coffee. Rolling his eyes, he poured himself another mug and set off for the small second bedroom of his flat that he had turned into an office of sorts. Sitting down in the rolling chair situated in front of a rather expensive-looking computer, he punched the button to turn the machine on, and reclined in the seat as it beeped and the screen turned on.

Sipping dexterously at his coffee, he used his free hand to guide the mouse to the writing program, and clicked the little icon of a folder opening. Choosing one of the many files available, he waited for it to load, and briefly skimmed through the ten-page-long document before he hastily began typing to add on to the end of it.

His fingers zoomed across the keyboard, and he quickly lost track of time as he became more and more engrossed in his work. He barely even noticed the snowy owl that flew in through the window and patiently waited at the corner of his desk for him to finish what he was doing.

Hours later, Draco leaned back in his seat and groaned, scratching his belly softly as he saved the document he had been working on. The owl that had gone unnoticed for so long stretched her wings and hooted softly at Draco, cocking her head to the side in a concerned manor.

Draco looked up at the owl, and his heart broke just a little bit more. "Hedwig…" he murmured, reaching out cautiously to stroke her feathered head.

Hedwig leaned into the gesture, big, luminescent eyes closing in pleasure as she tilted her head for more contact. Draco heaved a heavy sigh and dropped his hand. "I thought I told you not to deliver these, girl," Draco scolded, although the way his eyes lit up betrayed that he really did want to read what Harry had to say this time.

Hedwig straightened and fluttered her wings, shooting Draco a haughty look as it to say, 'you still love him, you twit, and I'm going to make you realize that'. Draco rolled his eyes, lips quirking just a bit as she stretched out her leg to him.

Fingers fumbling, it took Draco longer than it should have to untie the neatly folded parchment from Hedwig's leg, and she was beginning to get impatient. Draco petted her lightly before returning to the letter. By the time he'd retrieved it, Hedwig was shaking slightly with the effort it took for her to stand still for him.

"Good girl," he cooed, kissing two of his fingers and touching her head with them. Hedwig's eyes closed again, and she leaned into his touch, hooting softly to him.

When Draco withdrew his hand, Hedwig's eyes popped open, pleading for a reply this time. Draco shook his head sadly, and Hedwig's eyes flashed momentarily, causing Draco to sigh.

"I'm sorry, girl. Really. But I can't. I can't torture him like that,"

Hedwig cocked her head once more, eyes gleaming with understanding, but still pleading softly with him, begging for something more substantial. It was times like this that Draco regretted not even leaving a note for Harry to assure him that it wasn't his fault that Draco had left. For not professing his love one last time before he had gone.

Hedwig made him feel even more guilty than he had before. With a terse shake of his head, he opened one of the drawers of the desk he was situated at and pulled out some owl treats to give to her. Hedwig accepted them gratefully, clicking her beak in content.

"Not this time, Hedwig. Someday…but not today."

At that, Hedwig ruffled her feathers, flapped her wings, and took off out the still opened window. Draco watched her go, tears gathering in his eyes.


	4. Lonely Nights

**A/N: **Sorry for the late update, guys! I know you've been really looking forward to it, but I had to do quite a bit of clean-up before it was presentable for here. :: sheepish look ::

If you're longing for that extra bit of smut, you can check my site (to which there is a link in my profile) for the uncensored version.

**---XXX--- **

Chapter Four  
Lonely Nights

_"Don't know what's goin' on,  
Don't know what went wrong,  
Feels like a hundred years,  
I still can't believe you're gone. _

So I'll stay up all night,  
With these bloodshot eyes,  
While these walls surround me  
With the story of our life…"  
-- Gone Forever (Three Days Grace)

Harry had known that dinner would be a disaster. Obviously, telling Ron and Hermione right away that Draco was a subject he wasn't willing to breach hadn't been a good decision on his part, as it just spurred more questions from them. When he refused to answer any of them, Ron had become incensed, and Hermione just continued to shoot him an annoyingly sympathetic look. It made Harry's insides churn. The night had gone to hell fast, and there had been no way to repair it.

With many hasty excuses at the end of dinner, along with promises to do it again soon, Harry left the Weasley home more down in the dumps than he had been upon arrival. His night had been anything but restful, and he had been lucky to manage to squeeze in the two hours of sleep that he had achieved.

He had a meeting with the Weasley twins today to discuss one of their new inventions that was "bound to be a major hit", according to them. Already they were branching off into other franchises, and neither the clothing industry or the sweets corporation were safe from their ever-growing ambitions.

The Weasleys' shop had been a huge success, and they already owned three companies nationwide. A few months before, they had made the decision to begin branching out into other countries.

The money the Weasley twins earned went towards not only themselves, but to the rest of their family, as well. Although at first Mrs. Weasley had been adamant about refusing their offer, the more money they made the harder it became for her to say no - especially since, even though she refused it, somehow or another the money always found it's way to her home anyway, usually in odd places such as in a cookie jar, or under a rug.

Eventually she had given up her protests. Although she still didn't want to accept the money, she really had no choice in the matter, and so she decided that it was better to leave well-enough alone.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, Harry glared at his reflection. It was obvious that Harry had lost a lot of sleep the night before. Wearily, he straightened his business robes and righted his glasses on his nose. Running his hand through his hair, he sighed.

"I love your hair, Harry. Never change it," Draco's voice filled his head, and he smiled softly at the memory of Draco proceeding to kiss every inch of his face before burying his own in Harry's hair and snuggling into him tightly.

He really had nothing left to lose. Closing his eyes to fend off the tears that were always threatening to come if he let his guard down, Harry took deep breaths to stabilize himself before he became a walking wreck.

He wondered briefly if the letter he'd written to Draco had found him all right. He had recently started to write to him weekly, but never knew if Draco received the hopeful correspondences. Harry himself had no idea where Draco was, but Hedwig apparently did. She always came back looking tired but proud of herself, but there was never a letter with her, be it his own, or a response.

Shaking his head, Harry refused to think about those things. They always plagued him, nagging at the back of his brain, but right now, he had to focus on things that were more important. All the same, he snorted at the notion that anything was more important to him than Draco was, because Draco had always been his life.

The show had to go on, though, whether or not the stars were willing to play their parts.

Stepping away from the mirror, Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket. Drawing in another deep breath, he closed his eyes and lifted it. With a quick flick of his wrist, there was a loud crack and Harry disappeared.

**---XXX---**

Harry watched in amusement as Fred and George bickered between themselves. Fred continued to claim that the jelly rats they had recently invented did the Mambo when placed upon the tongue, whereas George insisted that they were instead doing the Rumba. Harry found that he didn't much care one way or the other, but Fred and George had ascertained that they must discover which dance the rat actually performed.

These jelly rats were just one in a line of many dancing "candied creatures", each doing a different and more outrageous dance than the last. Harry had decided that the twins were right - the jelly rats were going to be a major hit - after watching them each place a rat on their tongues. They stuck them out as if it were a contest between them, and both rats danced wildly along their tongues, writhing and squirming, until they were mere specks.

By this time, of course, both were drooling abundantly, and still neither had come to a conclusion.

Sharing a grin, George and Fred approached Harry, a wriggling, bright fuchsia rat held by the tail between Fred's fingers. "You try it, Harry," George insisted.

Harry flushed slightly. "Er, I don't know. I've, uh, never been very good at dancing,"

Fred and George exchanged wicked looks, and Harry found himself backing away slightly. "Does it matter that much?" Harry asked, eyes flashing warily between the two men and the rat dangling helplessly in Fred's grip.

Fred grinned like a loon, and George stepped up next to Harry to grasp him by the shoulders. "Of course it's important, Harry!" he exclaimed.

"C'mon, mate! You'll like it!" Fred added, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively at Harry. Harry swallowed hard, clamping his mouth shut and shaking his head slightly. Fred and George laughed raucously, and Harry flinched.

"S'alright, mate," George wheedled. "Really."

Harry rolled his eyes - the last time George had said that to him, he'd ended up with bright yellow feathers sprouting from his tongue. Draco had refused to kiss him for days, even after the feathers had disappeared.

He turned his gaze to Fred, and he glared helplessly at him as George pried his mouth open. Fred stepped closer to Harry, and he dropped the rat into his open mouth. Harry yelped in surprise as the rat began to wriggle in his mouth, and George and Fred sprang away from him as his eyes became wide and the rat began to turn flips and bang against his teeth. It was almost like a violent kiss.

Harry almost spat the writhing creature out of his mouth, but before he could, it began to move more seductively. If Harry closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that it was a tongue - Draco's tongue - working it's way around his mouth, caressing and exploring in a way that Harry never wanted to end.

He let out a soft whimper, and immediately, two strong hands were on his shoulders. "All right, Harry?" two voices chorused together.

Harry managed to nod, clenching his eyes closed tightly and willing the sensations to go away. Surprisingly, the jelly rat ceased all movement. Sighing in relief, Harry managed to swallow the thick mass of goop.

Fred and George, still gripping him by the shoulders, shared a concerned look. "Sorry 'bout that mate," George said, squeezing Harry's shoulder sympathetically.

"D'you think we might not have worked out some of the bugs?" Fred asked, looking at his twin in trepidation.

Harry shook his head wildly. "No, no, I just…it surprised me," he said, voice wavering slightly. George shot him a look to say that he didn't believe his excuse for a second, but neither man bothered to speak the words that Harry knew they were thinking.

Harry sighed and shook the hands off his shoulders. "Really, guys. It was nothing. I promise."

As George and Fred shared another look, Harry rolled his eyes and brushed past them. "You know I wouldn't let you guys sell something bad to your customers. Besides, you've tested them on yourselves many times before - you would know if there were something wrong with it. Obviously, there isn't, or you wouldn't have let me try one."

Fred and George shared another look, but grudgingly let the matter drop. After many long moments of awkward silence, George cracked a grin. "So," he began.

Fred's smile broke onto his face moments later. "What was the dance, Harry?" he completed his twin's unasked question.

Harry flushed brightly. "Er, honestly?" At both twins' eager nods, Harry grimaced in apology. "It just felt like a lot of banging around to me."

George rolled his eyes in amusement, and Fred smiled ruefully.

Harry flushed darker. "I told you I don't know much about dancing!" he cried in defense.

Both twins laughed heartily, clapping Harry on the back. "That's all right, Harry," they managed to choke out in between brays. Their amusement prodded Harry into his own reluctant grin, and when he left their flat, he couldn't help but be in high spirits.

**---XXX---**

After stopping by the Burrow to have a word with Mrs. Weasley (and Hermione, who had also suspiciously been there), Harry entered his flat wearily, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. He dropped his keys carelessly on the coffee table just inside the entrance, and shut the door with his foot as he struggled out of his robes, dropping them in a trail as he made his way to the couch and slumped bonelessly onto it.

Harry's head lulled back against the armrest, and he stared blankly up at the ceiling. Millions of thoughts raced through his mind, but he was unable to focus clearly on any of them. Head pounding, Harry curled up on his side. Cradling his head between his hands, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Harry woke up later that night to dreams of Draco and yearning for the warmth of his familiar body.

Rolling to his side, Harry curled into the fetal position. It had been a long time since he had cried himself to sleep, but now tears spilt down his cheeks in rivulets.

When he had cried himself dry, his body heaving and eyes aching, it took him many minutes to fall into a troubled slumber.

Even in his sleep, longing whimpers filled the empty room well into the night.


	5. Just Harry

**Chapter Five**

**Just Harry**

"_Thank you for_

_The letters that _

_You thought you wrote _

_In vain._

_And for _

_The times you choose _

_To stand out in the rain_

_And wait for me…"_

--Reply (Staind)

Draco stared at the letter from Harry warily. He was far from noticing the tremble his hands had developed, even though the parchment in front of him was shaking so violently that he would not have been able to read it, had he tried. As the letter fell from his quaking grip, Draco realized that he had been holding his breath, and let it out in a heavy swoosh that made him feel lightheaded.

He stared down at the letter cautiously, as if it would sprout legs and run off on its own accord. That thought served to remind him of the Monster Books that they had been assigned in Third year, and Draco shuddered as he bent to retrieve the fallen missive.

Each of Harry's previous correspondences had been written painstakingly - Draco could tell that Harry had put a lot of effort in not only his usually untidy scrawl that he called penmanship, but also at staying stoic and aloof. Very rarely was this façade broken, but when it was, Draco could clearly feel the pain and betrayal that Harry felt radiating in waves from each carefully scripted letter.

Although making Harry hurt burnt Draco to the core, he knew that Harry would heal, and eventually be stronger for it. Maybe one day, Harry would even thank Draco for helping him to see that he deserved so much better than Draco could offer.

Harry was pure in every sense of the word. He was kind, genial, compassionate, and so full of enthusiasm, life and love to give, even though he had suffered through so very much. Harry gave so much, and it never mattered to him one way or another whether he got anything in return. He lavished Draco with love, support and attention that no one else could rival, and with a tenderness that made Draco feel weak in the knees.

And Draco didn't deserve it, any of it. The only way he was pure was through blood, and now, that really had no meaning to the Wizarding World. Sure, some people still cared about blood-purity, but most of them had been associated with Voldemort or with associates of Voldemort.

Draco was selfish and cruel, with a sharp tongue and arrogance in abundance. How Harry had ever been capable of seeing past this, Draco had never been able to figure out. But now that he was out of the picture, Harry was surely going to realize that he was better off without him, and he would move on.

It might take a while, but surely, Harry would move on. Draco only hoped that Harry would not grow to hate him, because although he wanted better for Harry, he couldn't stop his own yearning desire to be with him. He was torturing himself, because he didn't want Harry to suffer, to wonder what could have been.

Lips set in a firm line and resolve stiffly in place, Draco carefully unfolded the letter, and stared unseeingly for many minutes at Harry's scratchy penmanship. This time, the words were scribbled hastily, lacking much of the former letters' composure, and ink was smudged in various places from Harry's hand running over the still-wet ink as he wrote. This was the way Harry's letters were usually written, and Draco couldn't stop the slow smile from spreading across his lips in remembrance of many letters, looking very similar to this, that he had received in the past - before he'd left.

_Draco,_

_I know now that I have probably written a majority of these letters to you in vain. But I can't help but think that maybe, somewhere in that cold heart of yours, you still do care for me. At least a little bit. _

Draco's face crumpled as the words hit him with full force. He was cold-hearted? No! He only wanted Harry to have what he deserved, but pain wasn't what he deserved at all!

Didn't Harry understand? Draco's heart ached every time he was reminded of Harry, his eyes burned with unshed tears every time a sweet memory ripped its way into his mind and stole his breath away. Couldn't Harry understand how much this was tearing Draco apart?

_Those last few letters I wrote to you were meant to hurt you - but I regret that now. I wrote them because I was so angry with you! How could you just up and leave, without a single word? I know things weren't always easy, but don't I at least deserve to know __**why**__ you left me? Don't I at least deserve a chance to defend myself? _

Why couldn't Harry understand that Draco was doing this for his own good? Because he loved him so deeply that it hurt to breathe, cared for him so thoroughly that every day spent without him sent a searing spike straight through his heart!

_What have I done, Draco? I swear I'll do anything to fix it, anything to repair this hole in my heart!_

Tears streamed unchecked down Draco's cheeks and he bit the insides of his cheeks roughly to rein in the sob that was threatening to escape his choked throat.

_I don't want to push you further away. I would never want to do that. I love you!_

…_Sometimes, I wonder if it's worth the bother. You know the saying that it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? I don't __**want **__to lose you, Draco. _

_You're the one and only person who has ever gotten through all of my defences, the only person who's ever bothered to get to know me. The real me - not the Boy Who Lived, not the Chosen One. Me. Just Harry._

Draco closed his eyes, unconsciously crumpling the paper into a ball in his fist, tears flowing freely down his face and sobs ripping from between his clenched teeth, as he remembered something that he had long ago buried away.

---

_Harry had been unable to sleep. Draco was not able to say the same, but now __**he **__was wide awake, because __**someone**__ had decided that if he couldn't sleep, neither could Draco._

"_I had a nightmare," Harry whispered, his voice echoing eerily in the empty room. He scrambled into the vacant bed across from Draco and curled up beneath the covers, reminding Draco of a child. A very large child, but a child nonetheless. _

_Harry's eyes glittered at Draco through the dark, the light from the moon shining through the window and losing itself in his deep emerald depths. _

_Draco snorted and turned away from him. "Go back to sleep, Potter." he mumbled through the many layers of blankets piled on top of him to ward off the cold of the winter._

_The room was noiseless for a long while, and just as Draco had begun to drift back into sleep, Harry broke the silence. "C…can I stay in here with you?"_

_Draco sighed and shifted so that he could see Harry clearly. "I don't care, Potter, just let me go back to sleep!" he hissed, shooting Harry a glare and plumping his pillow before resting his head back on it. _

_Once again, silence enveloped Draco, and he snuggled down into the bed comfortably. Potter remained quiet and motionless, and after many long minutes, Draco was finally able to return to sleep._

_The next thing he knew, a warm body was pressed up against him, and big green eyes were staring down at him innocently. Startled, Draco squirmed to get away from the intruder. _

"_Potter! What in the bloody hell are you __**doing**__?"_

_Harry stared at him in confusion for a few moments, before he parted his lips and wetted them with his tongue. "I had another nightmare. I…" He looked away, shame crossing his face, and Draco felt his heart twinge in sympathy. "Sorry." Harry murmured, pulling away and moving to stand._

_Draco stared at him for a few moments that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, before he reached out and grasped Harry's wrist. "No, it's okay. What was your nightmare about?"_

_Harry blinked in surprise. He stared down at where Draco's hand held his wrist in awe, before slowly bringing his gaze back up to Draco's. "I…you…it…"_

_Draco smiled softly and brought one finger up to Harry's lips. "Shh, it's all right. You don't have to tell me about it."_

_Harry shuddered beneath Draco's touch, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. A single tear fell down his cheek, and Draco stared in wonder as it slowly made a path from his eye to the corner of his mouth, where it glisteningly remained. _

_Slowly, Draco removed his finger from Harry's lips and carefully wiped the tear away from the corner of his mouth, tracing its path to just beneath Harry's eye and tenderly cupping his face in his hand. Harry nuzzled into the touch, eyes still closed and breath coming in short, miserable pants. _

"_Harry," Draco whispered coaxingly. Harry froze in Draco's embrace, choking on a sob in his attempt to stifle it. _

"_I don't want to die." He finally managed to breathe. _

_Now it was Draco's turn to freeze. "Harry…what are you talking about?"_

"_Voldemort," Harry mouthed, another sob causing his chest to heave. "I don't want to die." He repeated._

_Draco blinked in amazement. Never in his life, had he seen Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, seem so scared._

_Draco wanted so desperately to say something - to assure Potter that he wouldn't die - but he wasn't one to lie, and he knew that the chances of Potter winning the final battle were very slim. _

_He had so often admired Harry's courage in the face of danger, but now he realized that Potter was probably every bit as scared on the inside as Draco was - he was just better at hiding it. _

_This new revelation forced Draco to realize that Potter was only human. He didn't have any greater chances of winning against Voldemort than he himself did, because Potter was a mere boy, younger even than Draco was. How could the Wizarding World place their hopes in a __**boy**__, one who wasn't even yet seventeen, and expect for him not only to live against one of the darkest wizards ever, but also to flourish? _

_Blinded by his new understanding of Potter, Draco did the first (and only) thing that came to mind. Shushing Harry, he carefully wrapped his arms around him as if he were a fine piece of china, and allowed him to cry himself to sleep on his shoulder. _

---

"Just Harry," Draco whispered against the crumpled piece of parchment that he held to his lips.

He didn't have the heart to un-crumple and finish reading it. He was content at that moment to just hold it against him, remembering the feel of Harry's skin against his, the way he murmured in delight when Draco kissed him in the juncture of his neck and shoulder, the smell of cedar and soap that was purely Harry.

"I love you…"


	6. The Final Goodbye

**Chapter Six**

**The Final Goodbye**

"_I used to be scared of _

_Letting someone in,_

_But it gets so lonely _

_Being on my own._

_With no one to talk to, _

_And no one to hold me,_

_I'm not always strong, _

_Oh, I need you here. _

_Are you listening?"_

--Hear Me (Kelly Clarkson)

Harry woke up that morning feeling lethargic and empty. His morning passed him by in a slow blur, and he hardly remembered anything that had happened before noon, when Hermione stopped by for a visit. Upon seeing him, she had immediately decided to stay, but now all Harry really wanted was to sink into oblivion and never open his eyes again.

Hermione offered him all the support that could be expected of a close friend, but no matter what she tried, nothing could seem to pull him back into reality. He refused to eat, even when Hermione offered to make his favourite dish. He didn't even bother to talk unless asked a direct question.

Hermione watched on, helplessly, as Harry sank further into his depression. She could tell that he needed some form of help, but she just couldn't figure out what she could possibly do for him. It was with a heavy heart that she reluctantly returned to her family that night.

Harry was thankful that Hermione was finally gone. After showing her to the door, he resumed his slumped position on the sofa, closing his eyes and willing away the assault of pain that he was bombarded by, on both the physical and emotional levels.

Maybe he really had no hope of ever being together with Draco again. With defeat, Harry took a deep breath as another dagger ripped its way through his heart, and he clenched his eyes tightly shut to will away the tears that this realisation brought on.

He had done enough crying over this. He just wanted it to be over, now. Why couldn't he just move on with his life? It was obvious that Draco had. He had probably had multiple lovers by now; had perhaps even settled down with someone, was now leading a comfortable life, and no longer wished to think of the past life that he had once shared with Harry.

Things that Harry had never even considered before were now being revealed to him, and he cursed himself for never having the ability to see past his own needs and wants before this point.

The letters he had been sending probably not only made Draco uncomfortable, but perhaps upset his lover as well. What if he had ruined Draco's chances of being happy, because of his own pursuit of that very thing? If he had, he would never be able to forgive himself for it. If Draco was happy without him, who was he to say that Draco didn't deserve it?

Ignoring the searing pain in the general region of his heart, Harry stood and walked to his study, ready to compose one final letter to his former lover.

Although Harry wasn't ready for it, and doubted that he ever would be, if this was what it would take to make Draco happy, Harry would do it. It was time for him to say his final goodbye…

**---XXX---**

_**Draco,**_

_**Writing to you has always been hard for me since you've left, but tonight it is especially hard because I know that this will be my last goodbye to you. **_

_**I am by no means ready to let you go; there's a part of me that will never be. But I know that if this is what it's going to take to make you happy, I will do it. I would never want you to suffer because of me, because of what I've put you through, and I'm beginning to realise, little by little, that my writing to you has probably been one of the many ways that I've forced you to do so. **_

_**I love you, Draco. I can honestly say that you're the only person that I've ever loved, the only person that I've ever been able to share such a close relationship with. You understand me, complete me, in a way that no one else would ever be able to do. But I've come to realise that you've moved on, and I can no longer reach you. You don't want to be reached any more. **_

_**I'll never be able to let go of this one small thread of hope that one day you'll come back to me. It gets smaller every day that you're away from me, but it will never truly be gone. **_

_**Be happy, Draco. That is really the only thing I want for you. At least one of us should be.**_

_**It will be hard for me, but this chapter of my life - our chapter - will end this night. It's obvious that yours ended long ago. **_

_**Goodbye, Draco.**_

**---XXX---**

Harry read over the letter he had written, and in his chest, his heart finished the process of breaking - the process it had long been trying to complete. As he dissolved into tears yet again, he promised himself that this would be the last time he cried over Draco.

**---XXX---**

It was many hours later that Harry finally pulled himself together enough to notice that one, he had somehow managed to make his way into his bedroom, although he didn't remember it, and two, Hermione was standing in his doorway and staring at him in concern. He didn't even bother to wonder how she had gotten there - she always seemed to know when he needed her, and never hesitated to stop by if she got the feeling that he did, even though sometimes he wished she wouldn't.

"Harry?" she asked softly, stepping into the room hesitatingly.

"Hello, Hermione." Harry greeted her detachedly, staring up at her through his wet eyelashes, his face devoid of all emotion.

"Are you okay?"

Harry cleared his throat gruffly. Standing, he nodded at her, one small, brief shake of his head. "I'm…going to put on some tea," he said quickly, before leaving the room. He expected her to follow, but when he turned around, she wasn't there.

Brow furrowed, he went back to his bedroom, and was surprised to see her still there. Reading the letter.

"Hermione!"

Hermione jumped in surprise, raising her eyes guiltily to the doorway in which Harry stood. "Harry…" she whispered, voice choked. Her eyes were glistening, and Harry grimaced at her reaction.

"Hermione, please, put that down." Harry coaxed.

"Harry, you're not…you're not just going to give up, are you? You can't send this!"

Harry sighed, closing his eyes in exasperation.

"You haven't done anything but mope around, Harry. How do you expect to find Draco if you stay holed up all the time?" Hermione glared at him sternly, her tears of just moments ago completely forgotten.

"Hermione, it's not as easy as going out for a walk one day and having Draco just suddenly appear out of nowhere!"

"Well you wouldn't know, would you, because you haven't _tried_!"

"There's no point in trying something that I know won't work to begin with. Hermione, I'm not going to waste my time on this anymore! I just want to move on with my life-"

"And risk every chance of happiness that you could possibly have in the process? Harry, that's not like you! You've never just given up before!"

"Well maybe it's about time that I did, then!" Harry exploded, raising his hands above his head in defeat.

Hermione blanched at this. "Harry…you can't be serious! You're a Gryffindor - where has all your courage gone? I know-"

"No, Hermione, you _don't_ know! Isn't that the point of all of this? You don't understand how **hard **it is - you've been with Ron forever, you don't know what this kind of heartbreak is _like_!"

Hermione's mouth snapped shut. Her lips pursed tightly, and her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms across her chest, but she said nothing as she stared belligerently at Harry.

Harry sighed reluctantly, and took the letter from her hands. "Look, 'Mione. I know you're looking out for me, and I appreciate it, I really do! But sometimes, you just have to -no, _I _just have to…let go."

Hermione's lips twisted into a frown. "Harry…" she trailed off, instead closing her mouth after a few seconds of hesitation, and with a small, sad smile, she reached out to touch Harry tenderly on the shoulder, her actions speaking of how very deeply she cared for him more than her words ever could. "All right," she said, eyes filled with sadness. "I just don't…you don't deserve to be so unhappy, Harry."

**---XXX---**

Later that night, when Harry was alone, he reflected on Hermione's words, and wondered if they were true. Did he truly deserve happiness? Right now, it didn't seem like he did. He wanted to move on, but did he _really _want to? He didn't want to forget, didn't want to lose the memories he had made with Draco, no matter how bad some of them might be. Was that so wrong of him?

After hours of sitting and thinking but getting nowhere, he finally decided that he wouldn't send the letter. He went to bed that night with a heavy heart.

**---XXX---**

Over the next few days, weeks, even months, Harry felt numb to everything around him. It was becoming harder and harder for him to drag himself out of bed each morning, and some days, he just didn't bother with the effort. His friends grew more and more concerned for him, but there seemed to be nothing that they could do to help him. He appreciated their attempts, but he just couldn't summon the effort to…live.

Until one day, late in the spring, when Hermione rushed into the room, waving a book around above her head, with her eyes gleaming with hope, but laced with pain.

"Harry!"

Her voice shocked him, and he looked up from his brooding glare at the blank wall in front of him long enough to note that she looked very excited (but dubiously so) about something. Curiosity piqued, he arched an eyebrow in question (a habit that he had picked up from Draco).

"I was at _Flourish and Blotts _today to pick up some light reading material," Harry looked at the heavy-looking tome Hermione was carrying and his eyebrows rose, but he didn't say anything. Hermione rolled her eyes and continued. "When I spotted this book in a display at the back of the store - in the Harry Potter section." Harry blinked, and Hermione sighed. "I would point out that it's about you, but I would assume you've already guessed that much. Here," She handed the book to Harry. "Take a look for yourself."

The book wasn't as heavy as it looked, and the ornate silver scripture that scrawled the title across the leather-bound, crimson cover immediately caught his attention.

_**A Love that Could Never Be…**_

But it was the author's name that his eyes were drawn to. In small, italicized letters, the name _Draco Malfoy _decorated the bottom part of the cover, as if to be hidden from anyone who wasn't looking for it.

Harry's eyes lingered on the cover for many long minutes - he was unable to tear his gaze away.

"Wh…where did you say you got this, 'Mione?"

Hermione smiled grimly as Harry continued to stare at the cover. "_Flourish and Blotts_," she repeated. Harry nodded his understanding.

"Would you mind…if I kept this?" Harry asked, hoping that he didn't sound to terribly desperate as he finally tore his gaze away from the book. His eyes pleaded with Hermione. Taking a deep breath, she nodded.

"Harry, just…be careful, when you read it. I haven't read it yet, I brought it straight over after I bought it. And there could be some really hurtful things in there. I just don't want you to be hurt again."

Harry knew better than to get his hopes up, but in his chest his heart was soaring. This was the first he had heard of Draco for nearly two-and-a-half years, and even if there were terrible, degrading words written within the book, Harry knew that he wouldn't put it down until he had worn the pages thin, smudged the fresh ink so much that he would be unable to read the words.

Hermione was reluctant to leave Harry alone with the book, afraid that something inside could hurt him so badly that he might become even more depressed than he had been. Pulling her own copy of the book out of the knapsack she carried even though she was no longer in school (a handy thing to have on hand, she often said, to carry snacks and other miscellaneous things for her daughter), she sat down in the chair close to Harry's bed and began to read it for herself.

Harry stared at Hermione curiously for a few moments, but when she made it obvious that she wasn't going anywhere, he gave up on trying to shoo her away with a glare. Turning his attention away from her, he fingered the soft cover of the book as if it were the finest silk. He wanted to open the cover and read the words that were spilt onto the pages for all to see, but was afraid that once he had, there would be no going back - and he knew that he would probably want to.

They sat together in a slightly awkward silence, Hermione completely enthralled in the book, and Harry still debating about whether or not he wanted to even lift the front cover.

Finally, he worked up the courage to open the book. He then stared at the cover page, the title still blaring out at him, and Draco's name scripted in small font at the bottom of the page. It took him even longer to work up the courage to turn that page, but when he did, the dedication was revealed.

_For Harry - _

_I'm sorry that I hurt you._

_It's something I must live with every day._

_And all the pain I put you through,_

_I wish that I could take it all away,_

_And be the one who catches all your tears._

_That's why I need you to hear:_

_I've found a reason for me,_

_To change who I used to be._

_A reason to start over new,_

_And the reason is you… _(!)

Harry blinked down at the words of the dedication, wondering why they somehow reminded him of the lyrics of a song.

And that was when Hermione burst into sobs.

**---XXX---X---XXX---**

(!) - These are the lyrics to the song "The Reason", by _Hoobastank_. I felt they were rather fitting for this situation.


	7. An Unexpected Encounter

**Chapter Seven  
An Unexpected Encounter**

_"In the back of my mind I know  
It only hurts when your eyes are open,   
Lies get tossed and truth is spoken.  
It only hurts when that door gets opened,  
Dreams are lost and hearts are broken…"_  
--It Only Hurts (Default)

Draco hadn't received a letter from Harry lately, and for some reason, it put him on edge more than he would have liked to be. It had been nearly four months since the last letter he had received, and millions of speculations ran through his mind about exactly why the letters had stopped coming - all of which he pushed aside and refused to think about, although oftentimes he found them snaking into his thoughts when his guard was down.

He couldn't help himself - no matter how hard he tried to push Harry to the back of his mind, all he could ever seem to think about was how badly he wished he could be with him. Even though Draco had assumed that the pain would slowly diminish over time, it hadn't - if anything, it just seemed to grow deeper every day.

Of course, reminding himself of Harry daily through his writing was definitely not something that was very constructive. But he just had to get his feelings off his chest, and obviously, writing to Harry was out of the question. If he could just get his feelings out, in any way, shape, or form, maybe they would stay away for good. Of course, Draco knew that this logic was flawed - in fact, he had known from the get-go - but he refused to think too deeply about this miniscule detail.

Draco had never known that writing would be the release that it was - but even as it released him from the constraints of everyday life, it forced him to think about things that he would rather keep hidden in the dark recesses of his mind. 

Writing about Harry gave Draco a way to be with him again. He was with him in all of the happy moments, the painful fights, and some of the most poignant times of his (and Harry's) life - but these were only memories that spilt onto the paper as fast as Draco's fingers could bring them to life once again.

What had started out as a short journal entry had now worked its way into a full-blown novel - one that Draco hoped Harry would never read, but knew that chances were, he would. He hadn't meant to get the memoirs published - he wasn't even sure exactly how it had happened! But there was no way that he could take it back now.

Because of its simple beginnings, the book still was a journal of sorts - he had written down his deepest, darkest feelings, written replies to Harry's letters that he had only ever written in his head, even recorded some of his best memories, all in an attempt to remember Harry, and remind himself why he did not deserve the benevolent man. 

He knew that he hadn't been purposefully hurtful in his reminiscent writings; if anything, it had probably pained him more than it would pain anybody else. He had shed many tears during the writing of the book, and many long hours had been spent sulking and moping in his own deep, dark depression.

He didn't know if he was ready for the repercussions of publishing the book, though. He was now vulnerable to any old coot that wanted to find him, and he wasn't sure if he liked that feeling. Of course, going into hiding was always an option, but Draco wasn't fond of the idea - it reminded him too much of what his father had done in those last few months of the war, and he was _not_ his father.

He could not say that the book was something that he was proud about - it boasted feelings to which no Malfoy had ever openly admitted, and for that alone, he would have been disowned if his parents had still been alive.

He just hoped that Harry would get the point that he was trying to get across. Obviously, his silence had been getting him nowhere, and even though he felt ashamed about publishing the bloody thing, perhaps it would come as an advantage - perhaps, it would help Harry forget (although Draco got the sneaking suspicion that Harry had already moved on, the cease of one-sided correspondences serving as the only evidence he needed).

Draco sighed as he rose from his slumped position in the rolling chair in front of his computer. The screen was blank, and he stared at it for a few moments before tearing his gaze away and stalking out of the room. He had spent enough time contemplating these things, dammit!

He thought about just getting rid of the buggering computer, but that wouldn't solve any of his problems, not really. Though the rough drafts of the book were on there, getting rid of it would solve nothing. The book had already been published, and it was now making its way onto shelves in some of the most renowned bookstores nationwide. Getting rid of the computer would not get rid of the book itself, so Draco grudgingly vetoed the idea.

He was too dignified to stomp around his flat as he completed his morning ritual of showering, dressing, and having a meagre breakfast of lukewarm tea and burnt toast, but he wanted to.

Today was one of those days where he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, longed to wreak havoc on the clinically clean kitchen that was mocking him with its glistening spigots and shining floors, yearned to throw himself to the ground and kick and shriek until the world just went away. Today was one of those days where he wanted to stay in bed and never leave, the type of day where he just wanted to hang his head in his hands and close his eyes, and when he opened them again, everything would just disappear.

He wanted to, but he didn't. He couldn't; he wouldn't allow himself that luxury. He had a life to live, and even though it was a grim and dire one, he was at least going to try to make the best of it.

Draco flung a cloak over his shoulders and left his flat, his bad mood following him as if it were a dark cloud. He was _not_ going to be a recluse! Even if half of Wizarding Britain knew about the book, Muggles didn't, and Draco was happy for small mercies.

He was going to start his day with grocery shopping, the Wizarding world be damned!

Draco knew that grocery shopping was really no way to prove his point, but it was a step in the right direction. Besides, he was tired of having burnt toast for breakfast every morning. And he was rubbish at cooking - perhaps while he was at it, he could stop in at a small café for lunch. Draco smiled at his plans for the day, and quickly made his way down the street, holding his hands above his head to fend off the rain that was falling in half-hearted drops. 

**---XXX---**

Draco's shopping had been uneventful and boring, as it always was. He'd only purchased the bare necessities, really, but it was still reassuring to know that at least he could have the small comfort of the things he needed.

After stepping into a deserted alleyway to shrink his packages and groceries, Draco stepped into a small, dimly lit café a few streets away from his flat. The small restaurant was familiar to him now, after he had visited it nearly once a week for the past two years. One might even go so far as to say that he was a regular. He always ordered the same thing and sat at the same table in a corner of the small establishment - he could easily see the patrons as they came and went from the window that was next to him, but they could not as easily see him.

After setting his order with the friendly blonde waitress that was familiar enough with him by now to call him by name, he turned to take his customary seat, only to find that it was occupied - by one of the last people in the world that he wanted to see: Ron Weasley.

Draco's eyes widened, and he made a hasty retreat to the farthest corner away from Weasley as he could get - although past experience at this particular establishment told him that the man had most likely already seen him. Draco knew he should have trusted the feeling in his gut that had told him to stay away from the small café, but he had been unable to resist. He silently cursed his growling stomach, not only for drawing the attention of half of the patrons in the place (although there were few to speak of as it was), but also for leading him to his almost inevitable death.

Draco sat by himself, his back to Weasley, hoping and praying with all his might that the oaf would not recognise him in some way. His stomach bubbled with anxiety as he waited impatiently for the girl to bring him his order, praying to whatever deities might exist that perhaps the Weasel would somehow overlook him.

After ten minutes had passed and the grinning blond waitress came out from the kitchen carrying his steaming meal in one hand and his scotch in the other, Draco released a breath of air. The Weasel had yet to notice him. 

Draco's mouth began to water as the girl set his food in front of him, and he nodded his thanks, afraid that using his voice might alert Weasley to his presence. The girl giggled as she left him to his meal, throwing a flirtatious smile over her shoulder as she again disappeared into the kitchen.

Draco slumped exhaustedly down in his seat, drawing the attention of an elderly woman who was seated in a booth across from him. "Young man," she cried shrilly, causing Draco to wince and glance cautiously over his shoulder to see if her voice had caught the attention of the Weasel. "It is rude to slouch! And get your elbows off the table! You should be ashamed of yourself, showing no pride or dignity in such a fine establishment! Have you no manners? Young man! Are you listening to me? Young man!"

Draco blinked, the woman's attitude reminding him a bit of his mother, and he fought the urge to hang his head at her berating. He quickly sat up straight once again and drew his elbows off the table, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at the nosy lady. With a sigh and a quick roll of his eyes, he murmured softly, "Sorry, ma'am," before he quickly began his meal.

The woman seemed at least somewhat satisfied, and she turned away from him with a 'harrumph' to sip regally at her tea, nose held high as she ignored him completely.

Draco could feel his cheeks flaming as he attempted to make himself smaller in his seat without hunching over his plate and once again garnering the attention of the elderly woman.

When Draco finally built up the courage to twist in his seat to catch a glimpse of Weasley, he realised that the ginger-haired man was no longer sitting at Draco's table. With a small smile, Draco turned back to his meal, relieved that he had not been discovered.

"Malfoy," The voice was familiar, cold, piercing, and entirely too close to Draco. "I didn't want to believe it was you."

Draco lifted his head slowly, eyes wide, to find that Ronald Weasley was sitting in the chair across from him. With a bit of a shriek, Draco immediately proceeded to fall over backwards, bringing his seat and the table along with him.

Ron stared down at him, eyes just as cold and unforgiving as his voice, and Draco couldn't stop himself from grimacing at the look of utter disgust displayed openly on the man's face. "I didn't want to believe it was you," he repeated, standing and towering over Draco like a giant about to crush a small animal beneath his foot.

"Why are you here?" Draco managed to choke out, fear filling his eyes although he desperately tried to mask it by picking distractedly at the food that was now covering him.

"I could ask you the same thing." Ron was still standing over him, not offering to help him up, and Draco could hear the old woman who had scolded him earlier muttering about him having no manners as he tried to lift himself up off of the ground. Just has he was almost to his feet, however, his foot caught a slippery part of the floor, and he went sliding down to land in a disgraceful heap. He could feel the eyes of not only the Weasel, but also everyone else in the restaurant following his every move, and he didn't really want to try getting up again.

Draco heard Ron let out a huff of breath, and could imagine him rolling his eyes. He was surprised when strong hands grasped him by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. "We need to talk, Malfoy," the Weasel sneered, and Draco had to admit that he was getting much better at it - it was nearly intimidating!

Draco's eyes narrowed and he stepped away from the imposing man with a glare. "As you can see," Draco gestured to the mess on the floor, "I was in the middle of something."

Weasley snorted, causing Draco to cringe. "This is more important," Ron stated, eyes glinting with barely restrained malice.

Just then, the small blonde waitress came back from the kitchen, and she gasped when she saw the mess covering both the floor and Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, are you all right?" she asked, rushing over to begin cleaning the mess from the floor and completely ignoring Ron.

Draco nodded stiffly, jaw clenched tightly, and said, "Stacy, I'm sorry about the mess." He shot a glare at Weasley. "It was an accident. I assure you, I would never do something so callous on purpose. Allow me to compensate you for your efforts." Draco withdrew his wallet from his pocket and began taking crisp new bills out.

"Oh no, Draco, it's nothing, happens all the time!" Stacy said happily, scrubbing a little harder than necessary at the tiles of the floor.

Draco shook his head. "Nevertheless, I feel that I owe you. Just think of this as…a large tip, if you will." Draco held out his hand, the Muggle money warm in his palm.

Stacy looked up and her mouth immediately fell open. "I can't take that," she breathed. "Mr. Malfoy, that is entirely too much money! Please -"

Draco cut her off by taking her hand and stuffing the bills into it, shaking his head and smiling slightly. "Take it," he urged.

With a nod at the flushed woman, Draco gathered his cloak and made his way out of the café, vindictive redhead following closely behind him.

When he was out of eyeshot of the restaurant and farther away from his flat, Draco turned to glare at the Weasel.

"What do you want, Weasley?" Draco spat.

"Many things," Ron said, voice calm yet frigid. "I want to know why you left. I want to know why you've never even sent a bloody letter to Harry, after all the times he's tried to contact you. I want to know where you've been for the past two years, Malfoy. But most of all, I want to know why you wanted to hurt Harry so badly, and I want the answers now!"

Draco flinched at Ron's tone, and immediately took a step away in order to further distance between them.

"Answer me, you buggering ponce!"

"I don't expect that _you_ of all people would understand the circumstances, Weasel," Draco muttered, eyes flashing.

"Then explain!" Weasley shouted, and Draco could see that he was desperate for the answers. "I'm giving you a chance, Malfoy, why don't you just take it?!"

"Because, Weasley, I don't deserve it," Draco whispered.


	8. The Discovery

**Chapter Eight**

**The Discovery**

"_I believe in you,  
__I'd give up anything just to find you.  
__I have to be with you,  
__To live, to breathe, you're taking over me…"  
_--Taking Over Me (Evanescence)

Harry looked up at Hermione curiously, even though his eyes yearned to go back to the book. "Are you okay, 'Mione?"

Hermione sniffed and rubbed at her eyes, nodding furiously, though her eyes continued to skim over the page she was reading. She said nothing, and didn't even bother to look up at Harry. Harry's brow furrowed in concern for her, but he decided he should probably do the same in order to figure out the cause of her tears.

Hermione's tears were soon forgotten as Harry became immersed in the book, soaking up each and every word that he read, nearly memorising everything that was printed. Harry could clearly feel Draco's pain, and compared it to his own, only to realize that they were both equally as hurt.

At first, Harry was angry with Draco. If only Draco had stayed long enough for them to talk things through, perhaps neither of them would be in the situations they were in right now. Draco was a coward that couldn't confront his fears, and had deluded himself into thinking that leaving Harry would be best for him, in order to cover for his cowardice. Harry couldn't believe it.

This was why his anger was quickly followed by denial. Draco Malfoy could not possibly mean a single word of anything he said in that wretched book. He just wanted to hurt Harry more, to make Harry realize how lonely his life was without Draco in it. Harry threw the book angrily across the room, and ignored it for all of three minutes.

In less than an hour, Harry was entering the stage of depression, and when he realized this, he immediately slammed the book down once more, stalking out of the room and leaving Hermione staring after him in confusion. He had to find Malfoy, and talk to him in person about this bloody nonsense, or he would always be unsettled about it.

Harry's mood was dour as he trudged to the kitchen to pour himself some very strong tea, in order to settle his now roiling stomach. As he leaned against the counter, sipping slowly from the teacup, he heard the Floo roar to life, and Ron calling his name.

Curiously, Harry hurried to greet Ron. When he got close enough to see Ron's excited face in the now green fire, Ron burst into words.

"I've found him, Harry!"

Harry felt his blood run cold. In slow motion, he saw the teacup he held in his hands crash to the floor, yet he could do nothing to stop it.

He could hear Hermione's voice, but he couldn't understand the words that were being said. Eventually, he overcame the shock enough to force words out of his mouth. "You…you found him?" he asked, breathless.

Hermione immediately shut her mouth, her eyes glimmering at Harry. Harry had to look away when the pity and sympathy shining in her eyes became too strong.

"How? Where?"

Ron grimaced, and Harry watched as he shifted his position in the uncomfortable grate of the fireplace. "It's a long story, Harry; can I come through?"

Harry nodded his head furiously; he was surprised that Ron felt he even had to ask. He watched as Ron pulled himself from the flames, which immediately died down. They flamed to life once again, however, when Ron came through entirely, pounding his clothing in order to make the soot fall off. Harry frowned at him slightly and flicked his wand, clearing the mess away before it could be smeared into the carpet.

Hermione embraced Ron, but quickly focused her attention on Harry; he was shaking. She frowned when she realized that he had yet to clean up the mess of his shattered teacup, although he had cleared Ron's pile of soot; perhaps he hadn't noticed that it had fallen from his grasp? With a quick flick of her wand, the mess soon disappeared, leaving Harry looking confused and heartbroken.

It was like watching Harry realize that Draco had left him all over again. His bottom lip quivered as he waited for Ron to explain, and his eyes filled with tears that he refused to let fall. She could tell that the shaky foundation he had begun to build for himself was already beginning to crumble, and she felt helpless to stop it.

Releasing Ron, Hermione grasped Harry by the shoulders and pulled him in for a tight hug to which his shaking body did not respond. When she pulled away, Ron gave her a desperate look, but she shook her head, urging him to resume his explanation.

"Well…" Ron began, stuttering slightly. "I saw Malfoy going into a Muggle café a few days ago, but I wasn't positive that it was him, so I decided to investigate. I've been going to the same place for a few days now, sitting in the place where I saw him sitting that day, but he didn't come back until today. He saw me sitting there, and made to ignore me, but he must have known that I was watching him; he was acting shifty the whole time he was waiting for the server to bring him his order.

"Then, some old bint started squawking at him about slouching. I figured I'd let him have his meal before I interrupted him, but I could tell he was uncomfortable, and I didn't want him running before I could have a word with him, so I decided to hurry our confrontation along a bit." Ron paused to draw a breath, and by his flushed expression and reddening ears, Hermione guessed that he had probably gained Draco's attention in a less than agreeable way.

"I…I think I surprised him, a bit; he fell over, and he didn't seem too keen on having a chat, to tell you the truth. He sure was in a hurry to get out of there, and after he gave some Muggle girl his money, he hurried out as if demons were on his heels.

"I followed him into an unfamiliar alley a fair bit away from the café, and I told him to explain himself; explain why he'd left Harry, and where he's been for the past two years, that kind of stuff. He didn't feel much need to explain anything, though; told me that I wouldn't understand the circumstances, and said he didn't deserve the chance to explain himself.

"I was a bit…stunned, at his confession. He walked away, and I just…let him. It was a while before I realized that I should probably find out where he's living. When I finally came to my senses, he was already gone. That was okay, though; I could still recognize a magical signature, and I could only assume that it was his. I cast a spell to locate him, and now I know where he's at!" Ron looked rather proud of himself, and Hermione gave him a small, encouraging grin.

Harry, however, fell to the ground, sobbing words that neither Ron nor Hermione could recognise or understand. They shared a concerned glance before hurrying to Harry's side.

Hermione held Harry tight as he sobbed into her shoulder, muttering nonsensical words of comfort that he seemed to ignore completely. Ron patted Harry's back awkwardly; in the many years that they had been out of Hogwarts, Ron still had not come to terms with emotion, and though he had a hard time comforting Harry, he wanted to show that he cared in any way that he could.

At long last, Harry's tears seemed to be subsiding, and finally, Ron and Hermione could understand some of the words that were being muffled by Hermione's shoulder.

"He _does _deserve a chance…love him so much…die for him…doesn't understand!"

Suddenly, Harry pulled away from Hermione, shocking both of his friends by the determination they could see etched deeply in his eyes. "Where is he, Ron?"

Ron blinked at Harry, hesitant and dubious, but Harry's resolve was quickly causing his face to flush, his previous tear tracks nearly imperceptible.

"Tell me, Ron! I need to know, _now_!"

Ron flinched at Harry's desperate tone, but stuttered out the address of Draco's home nonetheless. No sooner had the words left Ron's lips than, with a crack, Harry was gone.

Hermione sent her husband a wide-eyed, desperate warning glance before she drew her wand, indicating he should do the same. "We have to follow him, Ron; we can't let him hurt Draco without getting a proper explanation out of him first! He doesn't understand the situation fully right now, I don't think." With a nod towards Ron, she apparated after Harry, and Ron quickly followed suit.

They appeared with muted _pop_s, far enough away that Harry wouldn't be able to notice them unless he was specifically looking for them; judging by the thorough pounding the door in front of him was receiving, he wasn't going to be looking for them any time soon.

Ducking behind a couple of overturned trash bins, Hermione and Ron stared at Harry as he attempted to break down Draco's front door.

**---XXX---**

Draco had known he shouldn't have gone directly home right after his encounter with Weasley. But he had just been so exhausted; his limbs ached, and his eyes burned, as if he had been crying for hours and run out of tears. He just wanted to collapse in his bed, but obviously, that wasn't going to be possible.

Now, someone was pounding on his front door, and it didn't seem like they would be going away, no matter how much he ignored them.

With a scowl, Draco made his way towards the door to his flat, trying not to make any noises that might indicate that he was home. Perhaps if he left the person knocking for long enough, they would go away and leave him in peace. Besides, as of yet, there had been no indication of the visitor being Weasley, and because of his newly published book, he could never be too wary about opening the door to unexpected visitors that may wish to cause him harm. Even though he had wards placed around his home, there was no doubt that a powerful wizard could break them, and Draco didn't want to be subject to more pain than he was already in.

Just as suddenly as it had started, the pounding on the door stopped. Sighing in relief, Draco made to turn towards his bedroom; he stiffened at the voice coming from the other side of the door.

"We need to talk, Malfoy. I know you're there. Please, open the door." Harry's voice broke in the middle of his plead, but he ploughed on. Draco felt his heart twinge in his chest, and he flinched at the hurt tone of Harry's voice.

Heart throbbing in his throat, Draco made his way back towards the door, slowly bringing his eye up to the peephole in order to assure himself that it truly was Harry at the door.

He should have known this was going to happen. Honestly, he had expected this in some form or another; he had been looking forward to it being in the form of another letter, though. A letter that, perhaps, he wouldn't be able to ignore, but a letter nonetheless; he hadn't been expecting an actual encounter with Harry himself!

He had half a mind to slam his head into the door until he was unconscious; at least then, he wouldn't have to face his broken-hearted love. However, Draco steeled himself by taking a deep, gasping breath, and slowly reached for the doorknob...


	9. A Web of Promises

**Chapter Nine  
****A ****Web of Promises**

_This chapter is dedicated to **thrnbrooke** __and **scully**__, both of whom have reviewed nearly every chapter of this fic without fail. I always look forward to what you guys have to say!_

_"This will be all over soon.  
__Pour the salt into the open wound.  
__Is it over yet?  
__Let me in…_

_You take the breath right out of me.  
__You left a hole where my heart should be.  
__You gotta fight just to make it through,  
__'C__ause I will be the death of you."  
_--Breath (Breaking Benjamin)

Harry's hands were sweating, and he clenched them tightly at his sides in frustration as his face became flushed and his stomach gave a very uncomfortable jolt. He could feel Draco's magical aura on the other side of the door, and he knew Draco was listening to his words, but all of a sudden, his throat was dry; he choked on his next attempt at speech, and had to swallow multiple times before he could even open his mouth again.

However, before he could voice anything further, the door slowly swung open. Harry found his breath caught in his throat, and he nearly choked again when he caught sight of Draco and his eyes began to fill with fresh tears. He could not believe his eyes; Draco stood before him, looking healthy and happy, and oh, what Harry wouldn't give to be held in his arms once again.

He fought back the sob that threatened to force its way from his closed-up throat, and with a weak smile and only a small struggle, he managed to say the first thing that came to mind. "Hey."

Draco stared at him, wide eyes glistening slightly and his face becoming tinged with pink. When he answered, his voice sounded hoarse and broken. "I, uh…hey."

And in the next second Harry's hand, still curled tightly into a fist, was flying towards Draco and hit him squarely in the jaw. Draco went reeling with a shocked expression on his face, and Harry followed him into the small flat as Draco stumbled back and fell onto his arse.

Harry stared down at Draco, panting slightly from the effort it took not to punch him again. His lips were set in a firm line, and his eyes were burning with an anger he hadn't known resided inside of him.

"I love you," Harry growled at Draco, eyes flashing as if threatening him to say differently.

Draco merely flinched, massaging his jaw with one hand and propping himself up from the floor with the other. He didn't look at all surprised at Harry's sudden anger; in fact, he looked rather like he had been anticipating this very same reaction.

A sour taste filled Harry's mouth at this thought, and he closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to calm himself.

He was speaking the words before he could pause to think them through. And perhaps it was better this way; Harry wouldn't have time to over-analyze his thoughts, and Draco would know exactly what he was feeling. But even as the words left his mouth, Harry was afraid of the vulnerability they would cause him.

"I've never stopped loving you, you stupid berk! I don't bloody _care_ what everyone else thinks. My personal life is none of their business, and the people who matter don't care that it's you that I want to be with!"

It was too late to fear vulnerability now, though. The words had been spoken, and were hanging in the air between them, thick and ominous.

Harry's heart gave a jerk in his chest when he reluctantly opened his eyes to find Draco standing in front of him, his own eyes wet and chest heaving slightly. His jaw, where Harry had punched him, was slowly turning from an agitated red to a bruised purple, and Harry flinched at the sight of the angry mark marring Draco's otherwise perfect features.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Harry whispered, hanging his head in shame.

Draco ignored the apology, though his jaw still hurt. "Harry, I…I don't care what everyone else thinks, either." His response was soft and unexpected, causing Harry to lift his head to make sure he had heard him correctly. "Don't you get it? It's _you_ that I care about, Harry! And you deserve better than me; you deserve better than _this_. Can't you see that?"

Draco's rough voice was filled with a passion that Harry had only dreamt about for the past two and a half years. Harry ignored his tone, however, and his eyes narrowed at Draco's supposed confession. Again, Harry found himself lashing out at Draco with his fist. Draco's head jerked to the side with the force of the punch, but this time he seemed to be prepared for it, and did not fall.

"Don't say that!" Harry practically shrieked, trying hard to restrain himself from hitting Draco again. "I don't want to hear it! You're more than good enough for me, Draco; why can't you understand that?"

"But I'm not!" Draco cried. Now there were actual tears streaming down his cheeks, and Harry wasn't sure whether they were from the physical pain that he himself had induced, or pain of an emotional sort. He found himself again flooded with guilt, but he clenched his jaw tight with resolve and rode out the wave of shame the tears forced on him. "I never will be! You could have anyone, anything; why me? What can I possibly give you but pain? Haven't you had enough of that?"

Somehow, the urge to scream wormed its way into Harry's mind, but he shoved it away violently, determined to make Draco understand. "Yes, you've caused pain. But did you ever stop to think that before that pain, you gave me happiness? I want that back, Draco, but it's something I've only ever been able to find with you." Harry's voice was soft now, his breath hitched in his throat and his heart pounding almost violently against his ribcage. "And honestly, if I get to keep you…well, that would make the pain all worth it."

Draco gave a short growl, low in his throat, and turned on his heel to stalk away from Harry, putting a small amount of distance between them. Harry's eyes glistened with hurt, but Draco ignored it, along with the small voice in the back of his head that was telling him to wrap his arms around Harry and never let him go. Instead, he rubbed his face fiercely to rid his cheeks of tears, although he knew they would still be splotchy and pink.

The throbbing in his face allowed him to stay focused, even when looking into Harry's brilliantly emerald, gleaming eyes. They seemed to tug relentlessly at his heartstrings, catching Draco in their web of promises of things that he knew he didn't deserve.

"I'm not worth it, you blathering…I…you…I don't deserve someone like you, Harry! Look at me! Look at who I am!"

Harry cocked his head to the side, his gaze pinning Draco to the spot. "Who are you?"

"I'm a Death Eater's son, for one! On top of that, I'm a _Malfoy_, and we both know that to be associated with anyone with that name is practically worse than being sent to Azkaban on murder charges, in some peoples' opinion! And --"

"And I love you, no matter what you say to try to persuade me otherwise!" Harry cut him off.

Draco felt a sob rising in his throat, and could not suppress it as it forced its way out of his mouth. He dropped his head in shame as more tears poured down his cheeks, and suddenly, Harry was right in front of him, cupping his jaw and murmuring nonsense into his ear with such tenderness that Draco began to sob even harder.

Harry wrapped his arms tightly around Draco, pressing his body as snugly against him as it could go. He pressed his face into the crook of Draco's neck, inhaling deeply as he cooed softly, and reveling in the powerful warmth that flooded his chest when Draco gave a small sniff and pushed closer into him.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Harry," Draco whimpered into Harry's shoulder.

"I know," Harry soothed, tightening his arms around Draco's shaking body and nuzzling into his neck.

The first kiss, when it came, was chaste – barely a touch of lips on skin, and lingering for only seconds. Draco felt more than heard the whine that left his lips when Harry's lips again came into contact with the skin of his sensitive throat, this time remaining for many long moments, motionless and warm.

With a deep breath, Draco readied himself to pull away from Harry, to explain himself further. "Harry, I --"

Harry stifled whatever excuse Draco may have used with his lips, soft and pliant but unyielding against Draco's own. Harry's tongue snuck out and trailed the seam of Draco's lips, and Draco couldn't hold back the small moan that fought its way from his lips. Harry's tongue slipped into Draco's mouth, and soon their tongues were battling. The kiss was wet and rough and full of desire, and it was everything Draco had dreamed about.

Harry demanded nothing and everything with that kiss, and Draco knew he'd be drawn in by Harry's promise of love if he didn't do something right away to distance himself from him.

Draco forced himself to pull away from Harry with a loud suction noise, and when he finally gathered enough courage to open his eyes he noticed that Harry's were still shut, his posture sad and dejected.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, and again Draco felt his heart give a lunge. He grimaced at the odd tightening in his chest. "I just…I should go."

The urge to throw himself at Harry and beg him to never leave caused Draco to curl his hands into fists at his side, but he restrained himself from showing anything but agreement in his features, lest Harry open his eyes and realize that Draco really did want him to stay.

Harry slowly made his way to the door, and Draco found his breath stuck in his lungs as Harry twisted the knob, and with a loud, protesting creak from the door, was gone, perhaps from his life forever…


End file.
